


Whatever Happened to Harry Potter?

by Zorak23



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bend it Like Beckham - Freeform, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Hazza, Reunion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-21
Updated: 2020-09-21
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:22:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26585077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zorak23/pseuds/Zorak23
Summary: "You know, I went to primary school with a bloke who disappeared after Year 6. He was a funny little thing; I always felt rather bad for him. Lived with his aunt and uncle, and his cousin was a right wanker. Wouldn’t let anyone be friends with the poor chap. I tried to be nice to him, but… anyway, I’ve always wondered what happened to the bloke. Think he might have been magical?”“Could be. Do you remember his name?”“Harry Potter.”
Relationships: Megan Jones/Original Muggle Character
Comments: 50
Kudos: 140





	Whatever Happened to Harry Potter?

**Author's Note:**

> AN: This was inspired by a meme I saw on the Firewhisky And Honey Podcast Facebook page that said: What if you were a muggle who went to primary school with Harry Potter? Like, maybe you knew him a little? Maybe you didn't get close to him, you weren't his friend, but you were nicer to him than most, and sometimes you think about the skinny orphan kid with the messy hair that you haven't seen since you were 11, and wonder what happened to him. And then you marry a wizard, and you learn exactly what happened.
> 
> As always, Black Lives Matter and trans rights are human rights.
> 
> Beta Love: Brit-picked by JacqP, my favorite Northern Lass.

“Megan? Are you home? I came as soon as I got your owl—” Susan Bones was cut off when her friend and former housemate ran sobbing into her arms. 

“Oh Susan, I just don’t know what to do!” Megan Jones cried. “It’s Stephen…”

Susan reared back in shock. “What happened? Is he alright? Are _you_ alright? If he’s hurt you, I’ll—”

Megan choked a laugh through her tears. “He hasn’t hurt me, Sue. And he’s perfect. He’s _too_ perfect. That’s the problem! Susan, I—I think he’s going to ask me to marry him!” she wailed. 

Susan blinked at her friend. And then blinked again. “Megan, er, shouldn’t this be a good thing?”

“But he’s a muggle! I can’t start out a lifetime with him based on a lie,” Megan said, her eyes filling with tears once more. “And according to the Statute, I can’t tell him unless one of our children is magical.”

“Oh Megan,” Susan said, wrapping her arm around her friend’s shoulders and leading her towards the sofa in the cozy sitting room. “Come on, let’s sit down and talk this out. Surely we can come up with something.”

* * *

“So… you’re a witch.”

Megan nodded nervously, sitting next to her love at the old battered table in the tiny kitchen of her flat.

“And so is your friend here. The one I’ve never met before. The one you’ve never even mentioned. And she’s here now, meeting me, not because I’m the person you’re in love with, but in case I take your news badly and you have to Omivinate me.”

“Obliviate, but yes,” Megan whispered, ashamed. She stared at the scratched surface of the table, refusing to lift her eyes until Susan started yelling. 

“Oi! It’s not like that at all! We’ve just come through a bloody _war_ and Megan needed to get away from the magical world for a while! I’d like to see how _you_ fare after losing your parents in your last year of school. A last year, I might add, that saw students bloody _tortured_ by their professors and by other students, and that instead of a Leaving Feast you fought in a battle that ended a war! So what if she didn’t tell you about her past? It’s not like she was allowed to anyway; even _this_ bloody conversation is against the law. Would you rather have found out now, or waited until your sprog started showing signs of magic?”

Stephen looked wide-eyed between the angry woman and the love of his life. “You were tortured?” he whispered. “Those scars on your back, the starburst shaped ones—”

“Those are from the Crucio spell,” Susan spat. “We were forced to practice it on fellow students, and _some_ people liked it a little more than others. Megan was a particular favourite of this absolute tosser called Goyle. He always picked her to ‘practice’ on. Makes you feel like your entire body is on fire.”

“Oh god, Megs…” Stephen whispered, pulling her out of her seat and into his arms. “And I’m guessing your parents didn’t die in an accident?”

“No,” Megan said against his chest. “They were killed by Death Eaters. So were Sue’s, but that happened in the first war. She was raised by her Auntie, who was killed the day after my parents were.”

“I—I don’t even know what to say, love,” Stephen said, not caring that tears were falling down his face. “I’m so sorry. I’m so very sorry. To the both of you. I can’t imagine…”

“Well, now you know. She didn’t keep it from you on purpose. Are you alright with everything we’ve told you, or should I erase your memory of this conversation?” Susan demanded, grief making her words sharper than she had intended. 

“I’m definitely not alright with what has happened to you both, but no. Please don’t Obivimate me. I’m glad I know. So much makes sense now, little things that I’d wondered about, but weren’t important enough to ask. No, I think I’m fine, and I appreciate you looking out for Megs.”

Susan smiled, reaching out to grasp Megan’s hand. “We were Hufflepuffs in school. We’re very loyal; it comes with the territory. Also, it’s pronounced O-bli-vee-ate.”

* * *

“What’s the fanciest bit of magic you know?” Stephen asked one night as they were cuddled together in bed. 

Even now, months after they’d moved in together and nearly a year after their conversation with Susan, Megan was amazed at how curious her boyfriend was about magic. Not the fact that it impressed him; that was only to be expected, she supposed. No, she was amazed at how much he wanted to know about her in particular. He loved hearing her talk about the spells she’d learned, about how it felt when she finally got something correct that she’d been struggling with, and about the things she’d accomplished. He never asked her to do things for him, to make his life easier or to use magic to smooth the way. And he was _always_ appreciative when she magically brewed his tea. Such a simple thing, yet it brought him so much joy. 

“I suppose the Patronus Charm is the fanciest,” she finally replied, after giving it some thought. “It’s a powerful defence charm, and protects against Dementors and Lethifolds. It can also be used for communication, sort of like a messenger that can go to other people and relay your words.”

“Brilliant. Can I see you do it?” 

Megan smiled sadly before replying. “No, I’m sorry. It’s powered by positive emotions, and I haven’t been able to cast it since the war.”

Stephen rolled over to grab something off the bedside table. When he turned back to her, he said, “Well, maybe you just need new happy memories, love.” He opened the tiny box and pulled out a ring. “Megs, will you marry me?”

The blinding, dazzling light coming from the silver Tonkinese cat that was now gamboling around their bedroom was all the answer he needed.

* * *

“D’you think your parents would’ve liked me?” Stephen asked one day out of the blue. He was standing before the mirror, straightening his tie, while Megan was putting the finishing touches on her hair. “I mean, what with me being a muggle and all. Would they have been alright with it?”

Megan smiled at his reflection in the mirror. “I’m a half-blood. The Jones have always mixed with muggles. They wouldn’t have cared about that at all. And they would have _loved_ you.” She turned to face him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and giving him a hard snog. “You make me happy. That’s all that would’ve mattered to them.”

Later that evening, when they’d returned home from his sister’s wedding, Stephen remembered a part of their earlier conversation.

“What did you mean by half-blood?”

“Hmm?”

“You said this morning that you were a half-blood. I don’t know what that means.”

“Oh!” Megan gasped. “We talked about the war, but I guess we never said… oh. Well. Alright. There are three kinds of witches and wizards. Purebloods have all magical ancestors; half-bloods have mixed heritage, both magical and muggle; and muggleborns are those who are born to people with no magic at all.”

“How does that work?” Stephen asked as he took off his suit jacket to rehang in the wardrobe. “If your parents are muggles, do you get to go to Hogwarts? How would they even know to send you?”

“There’s a list of names that magically updates, and letters are sent out just before your eleventh birthday. For the muggleborns, a teacher from the school is sent to their homes to explain things to them and their parents. Then they leave their muggle schools and go to Hogwarts from then on.”

“Huh. You know, I went to primary school with a bloke who disappeared after Year 6. He was a funny little thing; I always felt rather bad for him. Lived with his aunt and uncle, and his cousin was a right wanker. Wouldn’t let anyone be friends with the poor chap. I tried to be nice to him, but… anyway, I’ve always wondered what happened to the bloke. Think he might have been magical?”

“Could be. Do you remember his name?”

“Harry Potter.”

“Bloody fucking hell!”

* * *

“I can’t just send an owl to Harry bloody Potter, Stephen!” Megan exclaimed over breakfast the next morning. “He’s _famous_ in my world! And I’m sure he doesn’t remember me at all!”

“I know, but _I_ know him. And I want to know if he’s alright,” Stephen tried to explain. 

“Alright? _Alright?_ He’s the Head of the Auror Office, probably the next Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, his wife is basically David Beckham on a broom, his best friend is one of the top Aurors in the department, and his other best friend is in line to be the next Minister of Magic! And that’s nothing to say of the fact that he saved the bloody world! I am quite sure he’s fucking fine, Stephen!”

Stephen hid his grin from his agitated fiancée; he’d never say so, but he loved when she got flustered enough to curse. “Okay, love, I’m sorry. D’you think we could accidentally run into him, though? Maybe in diagonally or the like?”

“You mean Diagon Alley, and I doubt it. It would be a huge coincidence for us to randomly be there at the same time he was. Maybe at a quidditch game, though. His wife plays for the same team as my second cousin. We’re not close, but Gwenog did say to let her know if I ever wanted tickets. I suppose I can see if they have a home game anytime soon. Harry Potter would probably attend, and if we were in the family box…”

“Thank you, love. I know you’re uncomfortable with it, but it really would make me feel better to see that he turned out alright. I should’ve said something when I was younger, but I didn’t know what to do.”

“Nonsense. You were a child. You can’t be expected to help in a situation you didn’t understand.”

“I still should’ve—”

“Stephen. You. Were. A. Child. You are not at fault. I can see that this is more important to you than you’ve let on. Let’s go to a game, and you can see for yourself that he’s fine. I’m sure no one at all will hold you accountable for something that may or may not have happened all those years ago.”

* * *

Stephen and Megan made their way to their box at Ilkley Moor Quidditch Stadium, to see the Holyhead Harpies take on Puddlemere United. Megan hoped it wouldn’t be quite the grudge match the 1999 game had been three years ago; she didn’t want Stephen’s first quidditch game tainted by violence. 

When they finally reached the family box, Stephen looked around at the pitch and gave a low whistle. “This is really something, Megs. I know you explained it all, but seeing it… wow.”

Megan giggled at his expression, then tugged him away from the edge and towards their seats. “I’ll do my best to explain what’s going on, but I was never one for memorizing plays or knowing the different moves,” she admitted. She looked around the box at the other spectators, and added quietly, “He’s not arrived yet; I do hope he’s coming—” she broke off when two laughing men entered the box. She turned to inform her fiancé that Harry Potter had arrived, but Stephen was already on his feet and crossing the box towards the dark haired man and his ginger friend. 

“Alright there, Hazza?” Stephen called loudly, and Megan wanted to die. _‘Hazza? HAZZA? He just called the bloody saviour of the wizarding world HAZZA!?’_ she screamed in her mind. 

To her absolute mortification, Harry Potter stopped and turned around. When he replied with a surprised, “Ste? Is that you, mate?” Megan was quite sure she was already dead. Surely this wasn’t happening. She’d thought he just wanted to _see_ Harry, not _talk_ to him! Dear Merlin, now Ron Weasley was talking to Stephen, too. Maybe the floor would open up and swallow her whole. Or perhaps a Bombarda just under her chair would work…

Somehow, she got through the game, making pleasant conversation with Harry bloody Potter the entire time. And then after, she and Stephen were invited to the post-game party, where she made even more pleasant conversation with Harry Potter and Ron Weasley’s wives. Megan wasn’t quite sure how it all had happened. She was just plain old Megan Jones, yet here she was, hobnobbing with the upper crust of the Wizarding elite. 

When they finally made it home, Megan all but collapsed onto the bed. “Thank Merlin that’s over,” she muttered as she lay face-first on the pillow. 

“Thank you for today, love. I know it wasn’t something you particularly wanted to do, but it really meant a lot to me.”

“You’re welcome, Stephen. It’s just been so long since I’ve spent any time at all in that world, and it was rather draining.”

Stephen rubbed her back consolingly, then stepped away to get ready for bed. When he returned, she had shed her clothes and was under the covers waiting for him. 

“I’m glad you were able to get closure,” Megan said softly. “I do know how important it was to you.”

“Thanks love.”

“I’m just glad it’s over and done with. Being around him and his friends makes me rather nervous, to be honest.”

“It does?”

“Stephen. They literally saved the world. Of course it does.”

“So… when should I tell you Hazza is coming round to play footie with the lads next week?”

“Fucking hell.”


End file.
